


Doors Locked From The Inside

by GalaxyGazing



Category: X-Men Evolution
Genre: M/M, Male Slash, Masturbation, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-19
Updated: 2013-03-19
Packaged: 2017-12-05 19:12:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/726925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalaxyGazing/pseuds/GalaxyGazing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lance and Pietro are involved with each other behind a closed door, one which Todd's cheek is pressed to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Lance says five words, “I’ll be in my room.”

They are monotone, nonchalant, ordinary words, but they are also a code.

The intended recipient is Pietro, minutes later he will silently head upstairs as well.

He does.

However, one more person deciphers the message than anticipated, one who was not supposed to.

Todd knows the words aren’t for him, knows he should leave them be, but ever since he had put the puzzle pieces together he has been attune to all their idiosyncrasies and the nonverbal conversations between the two.

Minutes after Pietro leaves, Todd always follows.

Blob and Wanda don’t move from their spot in the living room, the message did not reach them. Blob from sheer obliviousness, Wanda because she probably does not want to know.

All is quiet for a bit as Todd settles outside Lance’s locked door with breath held.

There is a shifting of bed sheets, a few quiet murmurs that become increasingly wetter.

There is the soft crush of a polite mattress, too young for its springs yet to whine.

There is breathing, quiet breathing, from people who are just as determined to silence themselves as Todd is.

There is also a crack in the door.

It is an incredibly small crack, a hairline flaw in the cut of the wood where it was meant to align with the hinges. It is barely even a sliver and Todd has to press his check to the wall and strain to see.

He swallows hard and bites his lip; he can feel the blood and whatever was left of his better judgment rush in between his legs.

They are just barely visible, but Todd can see them.

Today, Pietro is riding.

Todd isn’t even aware that his fingertips have poked beneath the waistband of his jeans.

He watches the thigh muscles work underneath the white flesh. Lance’s hands are on Pietro’s hips, helping him.

The way Lance’s knees are bent disallows a view of the penetration but Todd is already so lust-drunk just from this.

When the brotherhood was all together, it was clear that Todd was the underdog, the least favorite. Pietro wasn’t hesitant about barking orders at him, or chiding him for bungling a mission, or calling him names.

But Todd could see him like this.

Todd could watch him working hard for his pleasure, listen to hitched gasps and breathy whines escape the same lips that yelled foul words at him.

They say something that is too quiet to understand. It goes something along the lines of Lance asking if Pietro is okay and receives an affirmative answer.

Todd is mesmerized by Pietro’s shoulder blades, protruding as he holds himself up by placing his hands on Lance’s chest and locking his elbows. His head is dropped below his shoulders. Todd watches his rhythm struggle at first, then smooth out.

He notes Lance’s slight upward thrusts as well, meeting Pietro every time he sits.

Todd’s eyes are full of the trembling and taut flesh, his hand is full of his swollen cock.

He doesn’t dare expose himself entirely; he’ll need a quick getaway plan if he hears either of his other roommates heading upstairs. For now, his body aches from being stimulated far too slowly, out of sync with the others’ pace.

Then they switch and Todd’s stomach is quivering.

Lance sits up slightly and wraps his arms around Pietro, cradling him as he rolls them over, and begins to fuck him hard.

All Todd can see from this angle is two, white legs spread either side a tan, well-defined back. However, what he is deprived of visually is compensated for by their sounds.

Lance is all breath; Pietro hums bursts of restrained voice into his shoulder. All three of them beg themselves of be quiet.

When the noises are replaced with subtle, wet pops Todd knows they are kissing. The Jeans he is wearing do not allow for much room to masturbate so he rubs himself fervently.

He shuts his eyes tight because the view is less important than the audio and, this way, he could tempt himself to imagine.

He wants to feel the weight of Pietro sitting on _his_ hips.

He wants to watch him ride not from a fracture of a window in the hallway, but right up on him. He wants to watch his cock bob up and down when he repeatedly sits, see how his face looks when he peaks.

He wants to _cause_ him that pleasure; wants to flip him over and fuck him into the headboard like Lance.

He wants it so bad but all he has is his hand while Lance lives out everything he pines for on the other side of the door.

Pietro’s toes curl, they each do an adorable shuddering motion and exhaustion lays them chest to chest.

They are kissing again when Todd breaks himself away from the wall.

Todd finishes himself in his own room as he reminds himself that Pietro is so very out of his league, and so very taken. There is also the minor issue of Pietro not even truly liking him.

But more than stubborn, Todd is desperate. He’ll stick his cheek to the wallpaper probably until he gets caught.

For now, that is all he has.

 


	2. Caught

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance knows.

Eventually, Todd is caught, but not in the way he had expected.

No doors were swung open, no demands to know _what the hell he was doing_ were made.

No roommate tread too quietly up the stairs, catching Todd breathless and shameful.

There was no shouting, no anger, no disgust.

There was only Lance, sitting across from him at the breakfast table one morning.

Todd hadn’t even been aware he had been caught until the next day when the guy across from him looked up from his cereal as Todd sat down to eat his.

“I heard you outside my door, Todd.”

The bottom of Todd’s stomach dropped out and his body went rigid. He fumbled with his spoon but caught it before it could rudely clank against the porcelain bowl.

Lance and Todd did not have too many talks. If one sat down to eat at a table the other was already occupying, they had settled into a comfortable pattern of simply not acknowledging one another.

The sound of Lance’s voice shook Todd and the realization of what the words meant terrified him.

As if his reaction hadn’t already betrayed him, Todd tried to feign ignorance,

“Wha…” The word was hallowed and not entirely formed. His throat closed in panic. Fear and embarrassment took him over.

“Last night,” Lance elaborated, his voice was low and unreadable. The rest of the brotherhood was still asleep and this wasn’t a conversation either of them wanted to be overheard. Still, the calmness of Lance’s tone was unnerving. Todd waited for an emotion to burst through the silence and tear a hole through him.

This was worse than being yelled at. Todd knew he was a pervert, a letch. If Lance told him that, called him any slew of names, grabbed him by the shirt collar, punched him, it wouldn’t have been a surprise, but _this_.

This was just torture.

“I…” Todd started, avoiding eye contact. A shaky inhale, a humiliated sigh, “…sorry.”

What the fuck else could be said? He’d been caught.

The word was a confession, a submission.

Lance leaned back in his chair while the lengthy pauses made Todd nauseous.

“Morning,” Pietro yawned as he came down the stairs and into the kitchen. The tone was friendly so the greeting was not meant for Todd.

“Morning,” Lance answered.

“I’m going for a run.”

“A normal run or _your kind_ of run? Should we expect you back in a half hour or a half second?”

Pietro snorted through a genuine smile, standing in the glow of the refrigerator. He drank some milk straight out of the carton, then put it back.

“I’ll be out for a bit, see ya.”

“All right, see ya.”

“See ya,” Todd squeaked, awkwardly. Pietro shot him a look and Lance soaked up the hilarity of it.

Todd froze, nerves raw.

If Lance did plan on telling Pietro about this, at least it wasn’t now. Todd knew he wasn’t his favorite person but the thought of Pietro hating him stung.

As unusually calm as Lance had reacted, Todd knew Pietro wouldn’t stand this for a second.

They probably wouldn’t have sex in the house again and Todd was already mournful at the thought of never seeing Pietro’s naked back again, or hearing his breath grow ragged.

His gaze lingered on the door he left through.

“You want to fuck him, don’t you?” Lance inquired.

The words were a gunshot in church.

Todd’s eyes widened and he forgot every word that he ever knew. Mouth agape, brow furrowed, tripping on the first letter of a dozen words, he unintentionally gave Lance an answer.

Lance all but rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair and sipping his orange juice, visually bored with Todd’s stammering, “That’s adorable.”

Now finally seemed like the appropriate time to ask the question that had stuck in his throat ever since the conversation started.

Guilty, Todd gripped the end of the table with his fingertips and recoiled into his shoulders, “Shouldn’t you…be mad?”

Lance finished his juice.

“If it was someone else I might be, but you,” Lance coughed an almost-laugh, “you’re not a threat, Todd.”

If Todd thought the silence had hurt, he had been wrong.

Somehow, Lance had picked just the right words to spear an irreparable wound through him.

Because it was true.

It was so true, Todd knew it was true, and it would always be true.

Lance pushed his chair back from the table, threw his empty utensils in the sink, and left the house.

Todd sat, numb.

Dumbstruck.

The cereal bowl shifted in the sink and clanked loudly, making him flinch.


End file.
